


If Things Were Different

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles explores his spark powers by jumping back in time, but when he jumps forward again, he lands in a parallel universe where he had left Beacon Hills years ago.





	If Things Were Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvanesDust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanesDust/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Если бы все случилось иначе](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391544) by [Koma_ami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koma_ami/pseuds/Koma_ami)

It felt like he was falling. There was a rush of light and deafening noise that grew louder and louder until finally he was able to break through. He threw himself into the darkness, into the silence—into reality.

He woke on the other side of town, laying face-down in the cushion of damp autumn leaves, piles of rotting flesh which littered the forest floor.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head, slimy, wet leaves sticking to his cheek as he turned his eyes towards the darkness. The usual autumn tones of brown, gold and red were darkened by the night, now a dreary mix of greys and heavy black shadows. Dense foliage hung overhead, enclosing the space, shutting out the sky and filtering moonlight. Streams of silver light surrounded him, not enough to see but just enough to distinguish shapes from shadows.

Among the darkness he could make out the fluorescent bleached skeletons of the birch trees, their slender trunks lining the shadows and eye-like rings that watched him from all angles.

He was in the forest on the outskirts of town; that much he knew.

He braced his hands against the ground, sharp sticks prodding his palms as he pushed himself up. Twigs and leaves rustled and broke beneath him as he lifted his weight to his wobbling legs.

He slowly turned in circles, surveying his surroundings. Fallen branches snagged at his ankles, scratching at his pale skin.

He lifted his hands before his face, clenched his fist and slowly extended one finger after the other as he counted, “One, two, three, four-five-six-seven-eight-nine… ten.”

He wasn’t dreaming.

He let out a sigh of relief, wiping away the small trail of blood that trickled from his nose with the back of his hand.

Every muscle in his body ached as he forced himself to move, dragging his feet through the undergrowth as he made his way through the familiar woods and back towards town.

He made his way down the abandoned back streets of Beacon Hills where no-one else dared to go at night.

The glass of the streetlights overhead were clouded and muddy, the old bulbs strobing and flickering as they struggled to hold onto life. The surrounding buildings were decrepit: old workshops and industrial buildings, some in ruins – with buckling walls, crumpled bricks and streams of water coursing through the rubble like ravines – and others were just abandoned and tagged with crude sprawls of spray-paint.

The building he was looking for stood tall among the rest—old but not the least bit damaged.

He made his way over to the door, slouching against the rough brick as he pushed the buzzer. A second later, a familiar gruff voice came out of the speaker.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning. What the hell do you want?”

“Derek, it’s Stiles,” he said weakly. “Can you buzz me in?”

“Stiles?” He sounded surprised. “Just a second.”

There was a quiet click as the door unlocked.

“Come on up,” Derek said.

Stiles shoved the door open, pushing himself off the wall as he stepped inside the large building and made his way up to the loft.

Derek stood just outside the heavy metal door, watching Stiles come up the stairs. He looked as If he’d seen a ghost.

“You’re back?” he said, shocked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said weakly, trying to steady his breathing. “I misjudged it and ended up in the woods.”

“Misjudged?” Derek started slowly. He shook his head, dropping the subject as he waved Stiles inside.

Stiles staggered towards the couch, collapsing on the soft cushions with a heavy sigh.

Derek stepped back over to his side, offering him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Stiles said quietly, taking the glass of water and sipping at it. “I need to drop by my house and get a change of clothes and some food.”

“What are you going to do, go back to Poland for a change of clothes?” Derek scoffed.

“Poland?” Stiles asked.

Derek levelled his gaze on Stiles, his brow furrowed with confusion. “Yeah, Poland. You know, the place you moved to five years ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked. “I’ve never lived outside of Beacon Hills in my life.”

“Yes, you have,” Derek said slowly, confused. “You left, five years ago. After Scott died.”

Stiles felt his heart sink, his gut twisting nauseously as Derek’s words sank in. “Scott died?”

“You don’t remember?”

Stiles shook his head.

“A rouge alpha bit Scott, and when we found out Peter was the alpha and confronted him, he killed Scott,” Derek said.

“No, he didn’t,” Stiles answered, setting the glass of water aside. “Scott didn’t… You killed Peter and became an alpha and built a pack. Scott became a true alpha and built a pack.”

“What?” Derek uttered.

Reality came crashing down over him. Stiles’ eyes widened with realisation as he sat upright.

“Oh no,” he whispered. He leant forward and braced himself against his knees, hanging his head in his hands. “No, no, no.”

“What?” Derek asked.

“The butterfly effect, or multiverse theory—either way, one thing changed, and everything changed,” Stiles rambled. He drew in a deep breath and sat up, looking up at Derek. “I fucked up.”

Derek’s brow furrowed as he looked at Stiles in confusion.

“I’m not Stiles—not _your _Stiles, at least.”

He waited for Derek to say something, but he didn’t.

“I’m still new at being a spark, and we discovered that among my abilities is the ability to jump through time,” Stiles explained. “We wanted to try it out and test the extent of my abilities. So, I jumped back to the night Scott got bit, but I wasn’t allowed to do anything that would change the future. Turns out, I—uh… I tend to meddle with things.”

“What did you do?” Derek asked, sitting down in the arm chair across from Stiles.

“I tried to stop Peter from killing Laura,” Stiles answered. He paused for a moment, dropping his gaze. His voice was filled with sorrow as he added, “I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

Derek didn’t say anything, but he understood what Stiles was trying to say.

Stiles let out a measured breath, taking a second to compose himself before he continued, “Peter saw me. He chased after me. I got out of there in time, but I was more focused on getting out of there than I was on where I was going, and I ended up here, in a different timeline—one where Scott’s dead and I live in Poland.”

A moment of quiet settled between them.

“So, what do we do now?” Derek asked.

“First of all, I need rest,” Stiles said. “Then I’m going to jump again and hopefully end up in my timeline.”

A look of pain passed over Derek’s face. “You’re leaving again?”

“I have to,” Stiles replied. “I don’t belong here. My being here could mess up everything.”

Derek dropped his gaze.

Stiles seemed to catch on to his thoughts.

“You seemed happy to see me,” Stiles prompted. “Shocked, but happy.”

“I… I missed you,” Derek admitted, before correcting himself, “I miss you.”

“Have you tried—I don’t know—calling?” Stiles asked.

“And say what? ‘Hi, Stiles, it’s Derek. I know we haven’t talked since your best friend died and I know that you blame me for what happened—I blame me too—but I just wanted to tell you that I like you and I miss you’.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. “You like me?”

A second later, Derek seemed to realise what he’d said. His eyes widened and his face flushed red.

“As in friend-like or _like _like?” Stiles prompted.

“God, you’re so immature,” Derek huffed.

“Well?”

“I love you,” Derek blurted out. “I’ve loved you since I first met you, but I’ve never been able to find the words to tell you… Well, not _you_… You know what I mean.”

Derek looked down at his feet, unable to meet Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, fighting the smile that played across his lips. “Look, I don’t know your Stiles, but if he’s anything like me then he’ll think the same thing I do; _Peter_ killed Scott, not you—I don’t think I’d blame you for that. And, secondly, if your Stiles feels the same way about you as I do about my Derek, then you have nothing to worry about.”

Derek looked at him, shocked.

Stiles let a soft smile creep onto his face as he met Derek’s gaze.

Derek let out a breathless chuckle, bowing his head as a rosy pink blush coloured his cheeks.

“You should get some rest,” Derek told him.

“Only if you promise to call me in the morning,” Stiles said, already kicking off his shoes and pulling a throw cushion under his head as he stretched his legs out across the couch. “Your me, I mean.”

“I promise,” Derek said quietly.

“And promise me that you’ll tell him how you feel about him,” Stiles added.

“I promise,” Derek repeated, a bashful smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

Stiles let out a heavy breath, exhaustion finally taking its toll as fatigue dragged him down into sleep.

Derek stood up from the armchair and grabbed the blanket that was tossed over the back of the sofa, laying it over Stiles before retiring to his bedroom for the night.

Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open, the room bathed in the golden morning light.

He groaned, squinting against the light that streamed through the wall of large windows. He turned his face into the cushion he was using as a pillow, letting the soft cotton muffle his groan.

He took a moment to let himself wake up fully before begrudgingly pushing himself upright, the blanket pooling around his waist as he sat up on the couch.

He looked across the loft to where Derek sat on the corner of his bed, holding his phone up to his ear and talking softly.

A small smile turned up the corners of Stiles’ lips.

Derek seemed to notice he was awake, quietly saying goodbye before hanging up. He slid his phone into his pocket as he stood up and stepped over Stiles’ side.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” Stiles replied. “Thanks.”

He kicked his legs free of the blanket, folding it up and laying it over the back of the couch.

“How’d the phone call go?” Stiles asked. “I’m guessing that was me you were talking to.”

“Yes, it was,” Derek answered. “And it went well, all things considered.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow inquisitively, prompting Derek to continue.

“My Stiles is more like you than I realised,” Derek replied.

“I told you so,” Stiles said teasingly, a mischievous – and slightly smug – smile playing across his lips.

“He invited me to go visit him in Poland,” Derek said.

“And you told him how you feel about him?” Stiles asked.

A soft blush coloured Derek’s cheeks. “Yes.”

“Good,” Stiles said, pulling on his shoes and rising to his feet.

Derek let out a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I guess you’ll be going, huh?”

“I should really get back,” Stiles replied.

Derek nodded. “Before you do, I think you ought to know, if your Derek is anything like me, the feeling is mutual.”

Stiles smiled back at him.

He held up his hands, sparks of white light dancing about his fingers before shooting up his arm. The air around him began to buzz with electricity.

A blinding light appeared and Stiles shut his eyes, trying to focus on where he was going—home.

He took a step forward, falling into the nothingness.

He threw himself into reality, stumbling over his own feet as he fell forward.

A pair of strong arms caught him before he hit the ground.

“Easy, easy,” a familiar voice said softly as they helped Stiles steady himself on his feet. “Are you alright?”

His head was spinning, his stomach twisted in knots as he tried to steady his breathing. He blinked, clearing his vision, and looked up at the man.

He was dressed in a dark green Henley and a worn leather jacket. His wide-set eyes were pale, the colour of his irises shifted in the glow of the morning light; from hazel to green, to a shade of light blue – clear, bright and focused. A look of worry passed over his face as he met Stiles’ gaze.

“Derek,” Stiles said quietly, feeling the warm trickle of blood drip from his nose.

“Take it easy. Here, sit down.” Derek guided him over to the couch, helping him sit before hurrying to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Tell me… Give me a brief summary of what’s happened since we met,” Stiles said, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away the blood that streamed from his nose.

“Why?” Derek asked.

“Humour me.”

Derek’s brow furrowed in confusion, but nonetheless, he began to lay it all out—Peter bit Scott, Derek killed Peter and became an alpha, Scott became a true alpha, they built their packs, and Stiles discovered he was a spark.

He was back.

He was home.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, sinking back against the cushions of the couch.

“Are you going to tell me why you needed to know that?” Derek asked.

“Because I just discovered that multiverse theory is real,” Stiles explained half-heartedly.

“Okay,” Derek started slowly. “For a second, let’s pretend that I understood what you mean by that.”

“I jumped back in time and then jumped forward again into the wrong timeline,” Stiles said quietly, lifting his arm to shield his face from the light. “But I’m back.”

Stiles bolted upright.

“I should probably tell Scott and my dad that I’m back.”

“I’ll call them and let them know,” Derek said softly, gently encouraging Stiles to lie down on the couch. “Right now, you need to rest.”

“Okay,” Stiles said weakly, laying down on his side.

Derek drew the curtains shut, blocking out the glaring light that streamed through the large windows.

“You know…” Stiles uttered sleepily. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

“Tell me what?” Derek asked.

“I like you,” Stiles admitted, his eyes drifting shut as exhaustion pulled at him. “As in _like _like you.”

He heard Derek chuckle breathlessly.

Derek stepped back over to his side and leant forward. He pressed a tender kiss to Stiles’ cheek. “I like like you too.”

A soft smile turned up the corners of Stiles lips.

“We’ll talk about it when you wake up,” Derek promised, unable to fight the smile that crept onto his face. “I’ll call your dad and let him know you’re okay. You just get some rest.”

“Okay,” Stiles whispered, letting his mind drift away as he slipped into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
